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From the Roman cult of Mithras. This eclectic religion entered the Roman world from the orient around 100 A.D. and by 200 A.D. had become an established part of the Roman scene. The cult centered around an initiation in which the newcomer was showered in bull's blood and was very loosely based on the Persian myth of a hero called Mithra with a lot of astrological symbolism thrown in. Mithraism was very popular within the Roman army and, as one might expect of a soldiers' religion, its teachings were not very subtle and it incorporated scraps picked up in sundry parts of the Empire. One of the exotic items which they incorporated into Mithraism was the Babylonian custom assigning a different planet to each day. The Mithraists took the seven Babylonian days and translated them into Latin. According to the Babylonians the first day was that of Shamash, the sun so the Mithraic week was: dies solis, dies lunae, dies martis, dies mercurii, dies jovi, dies veneri, dies saturni. That's "the day of the sun", "the day of the moon", "the day of Mars", "the day of Mercury", "the day of Jupiter", "the day of Venus" and "the day of Saturday", respectively, In Mithraism, the planet was considered identical with the god after whom it was named and prayers were said each day to the god of that day. When the Teutons on the northern borders of the Empire traded with the Romans they learned of this Mithraic week. Pretty soon (around 200 A.D.) they had adopted the week themselves and, while they didn't care for Mithraism, they translated its day names into their local tribal languages, some of which were ancestors of Old English. The sun and moon were not gods to the Teutons, merely luminous orbs which, if they were lucky, they occasionally glimpsed as they sailed through their cloudy skies. Accordingly, dies solis and dies lunae were just translated as "sun day" and "moon day" or sunnandaeg and mónandaeg in Old English. Other cultures adopted the week after they adopted Christianity and their names for Sunday are usually translations of dies domini "day of the lord". Italian domenica, French dimanche, Spanish domingo, Irish di-domhnaich all follow this pattern but Polish, Czech and Bulgarian have niedziela, niedele, and nedelyawhich all mean "not working". This day off must have been very important to the Slavs because in these languages, and even Russian, Monday is translated as "the day after not working". The ancient Teutons really didn't get Saturn. He was a god of seed-sowing and agriculture. At the period when these translations happened (1st and 2nd centuries A.D.) they were nomadic herders and warriors who felt infinitely superior to mere farmers. They had never heard of the planet Saturn and, not bothering to find a Teutonic equivalent of the god Saturn, they just borrowed his name. That is how Latin dies Saturnii turns up in Old English as Saeternesdaeg ("Saturn's day", Saturday). Not all Teutonic languages followed this route, however. It is Loerdag in both Swedish and Danish and it is Laugardagur in Icelandic, all of which mean "bath day". Surprisingly, this meaning also derives from Mithraic customs. The other days are all named after Teutonic deities. But the translations really aren't very good. Take, for example, Tuesday. It's named after Tiw, a god of the northern tribes who was chosen as an equivalent to Mars, the Roman war-god. The Teutons would not have considered Tiw to be especially warlike. For one thing, it has been said that all the Teutonic gods were war-gods, even Frigg, the token goddess. Yet Tiw did sacrifice a hand so that the gods could chain a giant wolf. Because of such bravery, the Romans first assumed him to be Hercules but around 200 A.D. they began to equate him with Mars. This period was precisely when Mithraism was becoming prevalent and the reason the Mithraists chose Tiw may have been nothing more significant than that his statues show him holding a sword. Thus, the Mithraic dies Martis "day of Mars" became Tíwesdaeg ("Tiw's day") in Old English. Curiously, etymology shows that Tiw wasn't really a war-god at all. Sometimes written Tîwaz, his name is actually identical to deus (Latin "god"), theos (Greek "god"), duw (Welsh "god") and deva (Sanskrit "god"), all of which are thought to derive from an Indo-European root meaning "shining". From our modern etymological perspective we might say that Tiw was closer to the Greek Zeus (= theos "god") or his Roman counterpart Jupiter. Jupiter was originally Jo[vis] pater, from Early Latin dio "god" + pater "father"). Some of the Teutonic tribes used a different name for Tuesday, though. As Tiw was god of the ding or tribal assembly, they called it Dingssdag, hence the modern German Dienstag and Dutch Dinsdag. By the way, in Old English, ding was thing which is, by a roundabout route, where we get our word thing. Wednesday is of course Woden's day, the earliest (10th century) Old English form being Wodnesdaeg. Woden was also known as Wotan, or Odin, or Othin, or sometimes even Grim. He once exchanged one of his eyes for wisdom and was esteemed for his keen intelligence. Perhaps that's why the Mithraists saw him as a form of Mercury, they both have quick wits. The two gods were also the fastest in their respective leagues. Mercury was fleetest of the Olympian gods because of his winged sandals and, among the Aesir, Woden was swiftest because he rode an eight-legged horse. We can only presume that these are the comparisons which the ancients made. Would we have made the same choice? Perhaps not. As Woden was god of warriors slain in battle, he might have made a better match for Mars. But, for whatever the reasons, the Mithraic dies mercurii was seen as Woden's day, hence Wednesday. Similarly, dies Jovi became Thunresdaeg or "Thor's day". That is, it is the day of Thunor (also called Thor, or Dunar) the Teutonic thunder god. The names Thor, Thunor and Dunar are all related to the word thunder. Thus German for Thursday is Donnerstag and Dutch is Donderdag, both meaning "thunder day". There is even an English document from 1460 which speaks of Thundurday instead of Thursday. That much is clear, but why was Thor thought to be equivalent to Jupiter, king of the Gods? Simply because they both made thunder and lightning, Jupiter with his winged thunderbolt, Thor with his hammer. Friday is often said to mean "the day of Freya" but this is incorrect. It is an understandable mistake as Freya was a Teutonic goddess of great beauty and a good match for Venus but she was not one of the Aesir, the top tier of gods. She belonged to the race of lesser gods called Vanir who had been vanquished by the Aesir. There was only one goddess in the Aesir, and she was Woden's wife Frigg, goddess of married women (not quite the same as a love-goddess). As her husband ruled those slain on the battlefield, warriors would pray to Frigg on the eve of battle. (See what we mean about them all being war-gods in some way?) Her name was spelled variously as Frig, Fria or even Frija but she was quite distinct from Freya. It was Frigg who gave us Old English Frigdaeg "Friday" as a translation of dies Veneris (Latin, "the day of Venus"). We mentioned earlier that some cultures use numbers, not names, for their days. In Hebrew, Greek, Icelandic, Portuguese and Arabic the numbered days begin with Sunday, as the ancient Babylonians did. But Russian, Polish, Czech, Bulgarian and Chinese start their numbering from Monday. Our reference books are not explicit as to how this came about except to say that it was a "historical mistake". |
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From Caleb Hand:
Caleb Hand! A name to conjure with, forsooth. With a name like that you should be hefting a whaling harpoon or rustling steer in Wyoming.
Please don't tell us that you're an accountant. |
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From Susan Day:
Of course. As you well know, tongue-in-cheek writing has an air of seriousness but is really intended to amuse. The expression comes from a theatrical technique. Imagine this: it is the last act of Romeo and Juliet, Romeo enters to find Juliet apparently dead and instead of just committing suicide, he launches into a speech first. (Well, this is Shakespeare.) Unfortunately, his mischievous leading lady is prone to practical jokes and just as Romeo gets to the line "How oft when men are at the point of death have they been merry!", Juliet winks at him. The actor desperately wants to laugh but daren't because it would destroy the dramatic atmosphere. What does he do? Simple, he pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue or, if the urge to laugh is really strong, he bites his tongue. Tongue-in-cheek doesn't seem to be a very old phrase as the earliest use we can find is in the Times Literary Supplement for 1933. Among actors, to laugh inappropriately on stage, is called corpsing. |
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From Mrs. Hilda Beattie:
Well, we can't disappoint the little
tykes, can we. Hero comes from the Greek word
heros which meant "hero". Boring, isn't it? Funnily enough, we were curious about this word ourselves a few weeks ago and we expected to find a much richer word history than this.
Oh, well, you can't win 'em all. |
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From Greg Fitts:
You are quite right, Greg. It does mean "a very good (female) opera singer" and is synonymous with prima donna (Italian, "first lady"). Diva is Italian for "goddess", deriving ultimately from Latin divus "divine, deity", a form of deus (Latin "god"). Related words turn up in many Indo-European terms for, and names of, gods. There's deva, Sanskrit for "god", Tiwaz, the Teutonic sky-god and even Jupiter (Latin dio pater "father god"). We can sympathize with your annoyance. To lavish such terms on the likes of Madonna and the Spice Girls irks us too, especially as diva was once reserved for singers of the stature of Maria Callas and Vittoria de los Angeles. But ho-hum... We may not like it but this is the way language evolves, from bel canto to can belt-o. |
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From B Shelton:
Yes, we did say that Frigg
was compared to Venus and Aphrodite but, as the current Spotlight makes clear,
she was in no way a love goddess. The use of frig as a substitute for that other F word is really quite recent. So much so, in fact, that we can find no record of it before 1933. Of course, words with obscene connotations are the least likely to appear in print but even so, without an earlier reference than the 20th century, we consider any connection with ancient goddesses tenuous at best. |
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Curmudgeons' CornerSuzanne Carpenter, new reader and guest curmudgeon, splutters...
You don't have to be a Southerner to know about chitterlings, you know. One of us (guess which) grew up knowing all about chitterlings in his childhood in South Wales. In Britain the word has three syllables, they don't call them chitlins. Singular or plural? Well, it's singular when it's still in the pig but definitely plural when it's chopped up. |
Sez You... |
From Jeff Wigley:
So, even the Encyclopedia Britannica says to Take Our Word For It ! Thanks, Jeff! |
From Janis Holmberg:
Nice try! |
From Kevin Robinson:
Well done, Kevin. The Back Issues are now up to date, so you can have a look there to find out how the drownded issue arose. |
From Clare Redfarn:
Thanks, Clare! We've actually got a Stanley Holloway LP with this on it and we're a bit embarrassed that we forgot about that use of drownded. Thanks for the reminder! And we would urge anyone who hasn't heard or read these Marriott Edgar monologues to repair that gap in their erudition as soon as possible as they are very funny. Our favorite is "Three-ha'pence a Foot", a tale of Noah, the Great Flood and a Lancashire lumber merchant named Sam Oglethwaite. As for the Yorkshire character, though, we seem to recall a rhyme:
Seriously, we've known several Yorkshiremen as friends and find them to be natural humorists who deliver wry witticisms with casual aplomb and a poker face. |
From Donna Richardson:
Well, perhaps you are right, Donna. Maybe it was used as an insult (albeit a mild and meaningless one) before "All in the Family". We just had no printed example of it from before that date. |
From Anson Young:
How interesting! Note that Hoosier is also mentioned. These days this word means "a native of Indiana" but etymologically it's a mystery. We wonder if it might have meant something else when this song was current. Did the book give it a date? |
From Brad Daniels:
We agree, Brad, that is a silly reason for the movie's title. |
From Chandra McCann:
So glad you enjoyed it! You can also see it at teachnet.com. |
From Joshua Daniels:
Melanie says from afar that she, of course, has heard you-uns, and she has, in fact, used y'all's herself! She is a native Texan, after all. |
From Dick Timberlake:
Mental sports, what a glorious thought! We've often thought that one's brain muscles need just as much exercise as the others. The mental equivalent of jogging might be... oh... learning a new language, say. What would mental weight-lifting be? Reciting "The Rime of the Ancient Mariner" in ancient Greek while calculating the square root of 17 to 100 decimal places? Actually, we have occasionally indulged in informal crossword contests. These are always held in coffee bars as they usually have multiple copies of the same newspaper lying around. You probably enjoy the infuriating conundrums of Will Shortz (New York Times Crossword Puzzle editor and NPR's Weekend Edition Puzzlemaster) as much as we do! |
From Judith Cuneo:
Thank you, Judith! We figured this was a good time to explain our irregular publishing schedule of late to those of our readers who don't happen to subscribe to our companion newsletter. Melanie has been out of town on an extended business trip since late September, coming home briefly now and again on weekends, and Mike has had to produce the page all by himself. Last week and this he was suffering from a raging cold, which further hampered his already monumental efforts to get Take Our Word For It published on his own. You may be relieved to know (for Mike's sake!) that Melanie is helping him out this weekend despite a very short visit home. By the way, thanks to all of you who have written to give moral support to Mike and to urge Melanie home as soon as possible! |
Laughing Stock |
This is something we first heard on the radio and were subsequently delighted to discover on the web. Although it doesn't concern words per se but is such an amusing parody that we couldn't resist passing it along. Ian Frazier's Laws Concerning Food and Drink first appeared in The Atlantic Monthly, February 1997, Volume 279, No. 2, page 89. |
Laws Concerning Food and Drink King-James-ized by Ian Chai
Laws When at Table
Laws Pertaining to Dessert
On Screaming
Concerning Face and Hands
Various Other Laws, Statutes, and Ordinances
Complaints and Lamentations
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Last Updated 04/12/03 10:48 AM